Today's Art
Paul Weinman
Hillside trees hold leaves in browns
yellows that enrichen toward gold.
A few raccoons appear, some squashed
others seeming asleep at roadside
except for maybe a tongue sticking out
giving the clue to its head's death.
You talk to me of conceptual art
how a spoonful of salt crystals
set on a gallery's floor - spotlit
can speak of unfulfilled dreams/talents
of poverty-spawned children.
When I ask what style of spoon
you'd use ... you point to a woodchuck
blood and guts; leaves blowing past.
